The Traders of Possum Springs
by Fenrir's Rage
Summary: An unknown accident has occurred in Possum Springs and almost everyone in town is evacuated, except for some of the characters you all know and love, and their visitors are gonna be the DOSH collectors you all know and love.


I took a long drag from my cigarette as I waited for my… Err… How do I say this…? **"Customers"** Yeah, that's… not exactly the best way to put it, but I got nothing better to describe them.

I was bored out of my mind even with the **"drastic"** changes that happened it was still boring as all hell; I decided that I should probably check on my friends, see if they decided to leave any messages or something, I opened my laptop and checked my mail. Mae sent me one, no flippin' surprise there, and before I had a chance to click on her Icon I noticed that the gunshots and moaning were coming closer.

Most people would understandably panic, normal people, **SANE** people… But not me I pretty much got used to it. It was effin' loud as hell, I won't lie. But it was my only indication that my. Erm… **"Customers"** were near. I sighed a little as I prepared their favorite **"Products"** and then I began to wonder how this all started.

You see this all started like… I don't know maybe a few months ago or something? I didn't really bother to keep track of what was going on.

Anyways getting back on track, some sort of explosion came from the old abandoned glass factory. Understandably a lot of people were panicking and wanted to know what caused it; most vocal was the town council. But they and everyone else didn't get any answers when some company named **Horzine Industries** entered the scene, quarantined the area, told everyone not to go there and also told them to shut their traps.

But after a while almost everyone noted that they all kept hearing gunshots, explosions and blood-curdling screams coming from the factory's general direction.

Having enough of this **, Horzine** ordered everyone to evacuate the area, which was a nicer way of telling everyone **Piss off**. For some reason they offered money to almost everyone who left, saying that it was compensation for what was about to happen and they wanted people to be silent about all this. Understandably most people took the money and didn't ask any further questions.

Unfortunately, me and my dad got a different offer. When I was about to go home after It was announced that we were evacuating, one guy in some fancy suit walked up to me, introduced himself as a representative of Horzine Industries and wanted to talk to me and my dad, I was obviously a bit suspicious of what this guy wanted, but against my better judgment I decided to entertain him and had him follow me home.

After we were able to enter our apartment the guy immediately introduced himself as Geoff Glover and wanted to make an offer with us, he said it was an "offer we couldn't refuse". God that line is so cliché…

Anyways he offered to buy our shop for **Ten effin' Thousand Dollars** , of course that deal was too good to be true, and I immediately asked what was the catch. I kinda regretted asking that question. Apparently the **"Catch"** was that they would turn our shop into more or less an armory and they needed someone to look after it, they were obviously referring to me.

They were obviously a lot of questions in my mind: First off why would they turn The Ol' Pickaxe into an armory, second what sort of circumstances would occur that would even end with them needing one and third of all why would they pick ours of all things.

I decided to only ask the last question, and he replied with "I'm not really sure myself but my boss thinks you're establishment has some sort of unique charm to it. Also most of our consumers don't like the earlier trader" I sighed a little, took a drag from recently lighted cigarette and asked how much we we're going to be paid, so far he proposed that I could probably be paid one hundred dollars per month, well shit with income like that mixed with the amount they wanted to but our shop, my dad could actually afford to slack off more than he did and I would have enough money to go to college, without the responsibility of watching over the Ol' Pickaxe. **If** I managed to pull through whatever the hell was going on…

Of course we **had** to accept the job and surprisingly enough my dad was all too eager to help out, which at the very least was a nice change of pace.

It took some time but The Ol' Pickaxe was renovated to house all sorts of stuff: from Guns, to swords, to knives, to axes, and whole loads of other stuff that can kill people, they also allowed us to have some of our own wares around mostly because some hardware goods can also make good weapons and some help make improvised barricades more sturdier.

They also gave us some stuff for self defense, me and my dad got: A pistol, a combat knife, a welder, a medical syringe, and 3 grenades each. They also gave us a computer that was connected to a bunch of surveillance cameras around our part of town and gave us some kind of military-class radio to give reminders to our "customers".

It didn't take long for me to learn what was **REALLY** going. Apparently some asshole mad scientist, who turned himself into a monster, and then decided now to call himself **"The Patriarch"** was creating some sort of Secret Cloning Factory under the Abandoned Glass Factory (Which in hindsight is both pretty smart and pretty cliché.) in response a clean-up crew was sent there, and judging by the fact that those **Things** are running around Possum Springs and the large explosion that happened that started all this… They weren't successful.

And now back to what was happening in the present, I decided to look at the security cameras to check in on those weird British guys. So far only a few more clots before I can open up shop and they were already on their way to The Ol' Pickaxe… Except for one poor sod that they probably left behind to find the clots just by himself. I went to my radio grabbed the mike and said "Hey if you guys wanna finish this wave faster I suggest you help your effin' teammate so that I can open up faster."

A few more minutes of waiting, and the final clot's head was turned into mince meat, I was finally able to open up the shop. A long time ago I decided it was a good idea to familiarize myself with the people whom I was going to sell guns most of the time, today my "customers" were currently:

 **Mr. Foste** r, a stockbroker who always had that white gas mask on his face, he also wore a pretty cool leather jacket with a small Union Jacket on one side (Gregg would probably kill for a jacket like that.) I heard that he had his own autobiography about his life as a stockbroker and how he learned to deal with those zeds but I'm not really interested in hearing or learning more about it (although I am interested in hearing about the last one). He's the **Support Specialist** or **Support** as they liked to call it, he seems to really like shotguns.

 **Samuel Avalon** , he is pretty attractive, I can see why most women find Firefighters hot (no pun intended) Of course the big major turn off was that I learned from his "friends" that he harbored dark secrets, he's pretty much a sociopath and was having a jolly good time killing those zeds. And considering he's the **Berserker** you can bet he's having one.

There was **Mrs. Foster** , I think she was Mr. Foster's wife, or girlfriend, or even twin sister? I didn't really get that much information on her, anyways she was the **Field Medic** of the team.

I heard from some guys that **Corporal Lewis** was pretty pudgy and was about to be kicked out of the army because of it, fortunately life or death situations were good for losing a few pounds (Maybe that could also help Mae lose a few of her own too.) He's the team's **Sharpshooter** and obviously he's a pretty good shot, those freeze grenades really helps in getting headshots.

 **Sergeant Powers** is a really scary guy that made me forget that there were bunch of mutants running around Possum Springs. I heard that he found his wife and kids jammed to a door, or at least what was left of them. That probably was the point where he snapped and became who he is right now, and right now he was a guy who barely talked, ate, or even slept instead compensating all that for killing as much zeds as humanely possible. I heard he collects those freak's fingers too, which I managed to confirm when he was wearing them a like a necklace right in front of me. I tried my best to not get nauseated when he was just standing right there, the asshole probably didn't smell the stench it gave off because of the gasmask. He's the **Commando** of the group he gives support with the Assault Rifles and LMGs.

 **Police Sergeant Davin** had a pretty shitty life from what I heard, his wife cheated on him with a few on the guys on his force, and then his daughter dropped out of college (Goddamnit why was everyone dropping out of college like it was the current coolest thing to do?) and then called herself a bisexual vegan cosmic traveler (A tumblr Snowflake if I ever heard one.) and some other irrelevant stuff. Thankfully (for him) the apocalypse came and allowed him to get a good session of stress relief, and what better way to relieve some stress than sending a vortex of bullets as a **SWAT** member.

Then there was the Pyromaniac (or **Firebug** as Horzine liked to call It.) that called himself **Adam Butler** he was kicked out of a **LOT** of foster homes because of his obsession with fire, which predictably landed him in Jail a couple of times. In time he grew to become a pretty famous Pyromaniac-for-Hire (I've never heard of him, but I'm pretty sure I'm not in one of those circles of people who knew a lot about mercenaries.) He said Horzine hired him for the job and he was all too eager to test out some of his new weapons. Also another thing to note about him was that he was wearing some sort of fully functional steampunk outfit.

 **George "Herman The German** " his colleagues used to call him, because he **REALLY** loved his German WW2 re-enactor outfit. Of course that probably went away when the Zeds decided to crash his party, life or death situations tend to have a habit of changing you (as most of my "customers" could attest to.) and he wasn't exactly that big on the details of his uniform as he used to be, which was covered in blood, some scorch marks and a few rips & tears. Obviously that happens a lot to you when you choose the **Demolitionist** class.

And lastly: **Nikolay** , your typical Russian stereotype who enjoyed drinking incredibly large amounts of alcohol, of course the only noteworthy thing about him is that his Soviet Russia Uniform is completely authentic, it belonged to his grandfather who must either be spinning in his grave because he used It as an excuse to get free drinks or smiling upon him as he wore it while mowing down several zeds, who knows really? But anyways moving, on he seems to be using two 9mm pistols for the moment which makes him the **Gunslinger** of the group.

If Mae were here she'll probably call them **"The Gas Mask Brigade".**

The first one to enter was Mr. Foster who just opened his arms and said "Well hello there beautiful!" I couldn't help but roll my eyes; he was obviously trying to charm me so he could get a discount. "Anything you say will just make me giving you a discount much less possible." I immediately replied, he dropped his arms and I couldn't tell from his mask but he was obviously frowning "Well you're a bloody load of sunshines and rainbows." I let out a sigh and just said "Let's just get it over with..." "At least she's better than that French bitch…" one of them said I didn't know who said but I couldn't care less.

As we were doing business; they were busy stabbing each other with word-shivs, exchanging some **DOSH** to buy what they respectively wanted, and generally trying to rest and prepare for the next wave.

"Ah, now that's some real soddin' firepower!" Foster said while he was busy checking out his new AA-12 with FRAG 12 shells.

While Samuel was giving his new DWARF Battleaxe a few swings and said "Now this is a good way to keep my head above my shoulders… **While taking theirs away…** " I couldn't really tell through his gas mask but I'm obviously sure he had one hell of a slasher smile.

Everybody else was busy silently checking and observing their own weapons letting out sounds of approval and murmuring among themselves.

I decided to check the clock only about a few minutes before the next wave comes. I looked at my costumers and said "Hey if you guys have a change of mind with your weapons I suggest you do it now, because it's only a few minutes before the next wave." Most of them shook their heads and said no and began to move out. "Alright you sods get you're asses up and be ready for the next wave!" "Since when did you become the leader?" "Ever since I became rich, which is all the fuckin' time." As they all began to leave while argue with each other on who had leadership in the team.

I breathed out some smoke and checked the clock again, 60 seconds before the next wave. I grabbed the mike again "I'm closing up the shop, if you live long enough I'll still be here to sell guns. Because I don't have any other effin' place to go..." I put down the mike, discarded my cigarette on the ash tray and lit up a new one. "Hell, at least I'm getting paid better than dad used to pay me…"

"I heard that!" Immediately came as reply. Oh yeah, I kinda forgot he was at the back of the building taking inventory of the stocks. I probably forgot about it considering I still wasn't used to dad helping out.

I decided to open up ChattrBox and went to what I was doing before. after a while I looked around the shop despite all the changes it still felt the same, I let out an annoyed sigh "Leave it to Possum Springs to make a Cloned Mutant Apocalypse seem boring, and I thought the whole Cult was the weirdest thing that happened to me…"

I hope that when this nightmare is all over I could finally go to college and forget this ever happened...

* * *

 **Yeah yeah, if it might seem lazy at thew last part i pretty much said "Fuck it, It's 2 AM in the mornin,g I need some fucking sleep..." Don't worry about it I'll work on it.**

 **Also don't be afraid to leave reviews both constructive or destructive i jst neued inspiration to try and better myself.**

 **And That's the last time i listen to SIlvaGunner (for context i was listening to the Pathogen and Loadsamoney song which then moved on to a NITW rip with Crawling in my skin instead of the Ol' Pickaxe theme.)**

 **Another reason is that i pictured either Mae or Gregg screaming "Loadsamoney!"was something that Mae or Gregg would probably do.**


End file.
